


Golden Light

by LorenOlson



Series: Of Golden Light and Frost Heart [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asshole Fandral, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Froðe is a cinnamon roll, Froðe is a hopeless gay, Loki Feels, Loki Gets a Hug, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki is a drama queen, Loki is an idiot, M/M, Nervous Loki, Non-Canon Fandral, OMC - Freeform, Original Character(s), Original Cinnamon Roll, Original Male Charatcer(s), Pre-Series, The Asgardians Are Homophobes, Unnecessary Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorenOlson/pseuds/LorenOlson
Summary: Pre-Series Loki and Thor, sort of Canon Norse Mythology, the sons of King Freyr and Queen Gerda of Alfheim come to visit the Asgardian royalty, Egil and Thor are best bros, Froðe and Loki end up being something a little bit more. Stupid, cheesy fluff, unnecessary heartbreak, and Loki and his future boyfriend being smol gay beans. 15-16 y/o Loki & Froðe, 17-18 y/o Thor and Egil, and lots and lots of adorbable-ness.





	Golden Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Batsutousai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/gifts).



> Ðð : This character is called an Eth. It is an Icelandic character that can be pronounced as D or TH, though it is pronounced TH in this situation, and Froðe is pronounced Froe-th-uh  
> Thank you for reading this quick sort of PSA, just so you know how to pronounce it in your head :)
> 
> #TO BATSUTOUSAI# Read this note please!  
> Please read the little note that's in between the little bars at the end of this fic if you do end up reading the fic, and if you don't have the time, please read the note anyway if you can! Thank you!
> 
> To quote Sherlock a couple seconds before John punched him in the face, "Not Dead!"  
> I am back from the dead with new fics in the works, and a backstory to a story and character arc I have been developing on my own for the past two years. This will be the start of a long series, a lot of which I have to just clean up and post, so expect a lot more of this. 
> 
> Please, please, PLEASE read the end notes, if you don't wanna that's cool, but if you do, I will love you forever!

"My sons, this is king Freyr of Alfheim, his wife Gerda, and his two sons, Egil and Froðe."

Loki could always remember the day he first laid eyes on Froðe. No matter how bleak, or how empty, or how long, there was never a time in his life where he couldn't remember that lovely summer afternoon.  
The day he was being 'forced' to meet the other princes of other rulings. The term 'forced,' at the time, seemed very accurate, as, that same morning, Thor had to drag him out of his bed by his feet, and out of his room by his earlobe, much to his dismay. And, for a while, he was right. All of the other princes were like Thor, very strong, but very arrogant, or so unlike him and his brother that he couldn't make heads nor tails of them.  
But Froðe was different. He was unlike his golden brother, just as Loki was unlike his own. Every other Alfheimen had flawlessly white skin and golden to snow white hair, silky soft and flowing down past the shoulders, straight and silky and perfect, not a hair out of place, nor an outfit too big or small, the colors always bright enough, but always drab enough to be regal.  
But Froðe, he was so much better...  
He was feminine in looks, far from his tall, muscled brother, Egil, with his rough voice and stubbled chin. But no. He had light, yet tanned skin, sky blue eyes, unusually red lips, and long, shiny, auburn brown hair that flowed gracefully down his shoulders, slightly wavy, and always messy, and now, seemingly untamable as ever.

Their eyes met first. Before they saw anyone else. And Loki always remembered, something... different, in those eyes. King Freyr's gaze was strong, one of a ruler, and so was Egil's. Gerda's was strange, like she saw something no one else did.  
Yet Froðe's eyes held something kind and tender, so caring and gentle that he had seen in no other's eyes before. They smiled even when his mouth did not. Their glow almost reminded him of the gentle shine of starlight. And it fascinated him.  
Though it seemed as if Froðe was as interested in him as Loki was in Froðe.  
As soon as their fathers told them to 'run along' and go have fun, Loki walked off, as if uninterested. But his eyes told Froðe otherwise.  
They beaconed him to follow, and Loki knew Froðe had read his gaze.  
So Froðe did. Intrigued, he followed Loki through a small forest path, leading deep into a secret garden which was hidden by spell work.

Their introductions were unsteady and unsure. But they spoke, and they smiled, and they laughed. Though, at first, they were nervous, they were comforted by the aural warmth of the other, soon finding joy in the simplest of things. Loki was comfortable around Froðe. In a way he was comfortable with no one else. Froðe was different. He was exceptional. He wasn't quite like Asgardian, with their rough tones and regal statuses and brash courage, nor was he quite like the Elves of Alfheim, with their long, platinum and blonde hair, their icy blue eyes, and their snow-white skin and their silent, strict elegance, or their warriors, strong and articulate, often being characterized as uncaring and cold.  
He wasn't like them. He was warm, and kind.  
His skin was darker than any regular Alf's, his eyes a brighter shade, a warmer, more vibrant blue, his lips naturally tinted slightly red, and his delicate, feminine features contrasting his angular chin and soft cheekbones, not unlike his own.  
And Froðe too found such exceptionality in Loki. He was eloquent and elegant, practiced and articulate, but warm and relaxed, unlike the other Alves, who were strict and cold. And like the other Asgardian, who always had a very brash kind of regality, as many, if not all, of Asgardian boys, and even very many Asgardian girls were trained since a young age to be warriors. But Loki was different. He was a balance of hot and cold, a nice, gentle warmth.

It didn't take long at all for them to warm up to each other.  
They ran around for hours, laughing and having fun, relating and regaling each other with stories, and after a while of sharing life stories and spinning around dizzy until they fell onto the soft grass beneath them, they opened up to each other without fear, telling the other of their thoughts and feelings, and eventually, some that they were too afraid to tell anyone else out of fear of lack of understanding.  
They found common ground in most anything, from the arts, music, artistry, writing, dancing, and after several, long, joyous hours and many playful laughs, they shared secrets to each other that they had never told another soul.  
It truly was like they were best friends in another life, finally together again, they were like two halves of a whole.  
They both understood one another, laughing and speaking in manners that others would find strange. Speaking of mortals and magic and their ideas, falling on their backs in the clearing, laughing and gazing at the clouds.  
Their strange, flawed minds had finally found a mirror, seeing that they were not alone, knowing the other was always a step behind.  
They seemed to have made a connection.

They told stories, both true to life and spun from fiction, about dragons and princesses, and even scholars and painters and adventurers that sailed through the stars like ships across the seas, driven forward by the tidal waves of the solar winds.  
And Loki seemed to have a peculiar interest in the funny stories, because, for one reason or another, he loved to hear Froðe's laugh. It was light and carefree, so unlike his own. The sound made him genuinely happy. It mixed with the light twittering of the colorful birds and nearby trees, and in with the wind from beyond the yellowed glades of Asgard. And it was beautiful in a way only he saw. And he absolutely loved it.

 

They learned that the royal family would be staying in Asgard for a month, discussing war strategies and peace treaties alike.  
The boys were overjoyed. Thor and Egil had taken a liking to each other, and had made plans for hunting and training, while Loki and Froðe on the other hand, had decided to paint and practice magic, toying with the colors of the sunlight and the flowers, and seeing how they could make the paint flow off the brush into astonishing reds and blues.  
So the days went by, as they painted and spoke, and they began laughing, dancing, and then singing.  
It was embarrassing for the boys to sing especially, and even in such a way. About life and about colors and nature, as everyone else would think them strange and look at them differently.  
But they sang loudly, as they knew no one could hear them. Loki made sure of that with a spell of his own.  
They painted on rocks and wove flower crowns and spun around, imitating their friends and family with horrible impressions of them, but laughing anyway.  
But as the days went by, Loki found himself becoming less and less interested in the activities, and more and more interested in Froðe.  
It couldn't be explained. Perhaps it was that he enjoyed his company? He never did have a friend quite like Froðe. No one else was so open and joyful. So, understandably, it was just something he thought was in their friendship. But it was still different than he expected.

He took delight in gazing at Froðe's face, his hair, his smile... Studying the way he walked and the way he spoke, the way he acted and the way he dressed.  
The way his hair bounced and flowed as he leapt into the air, and the wholeheartedness he took into everything he did.  
He even examined his stride as he walked, his legs parting just so, before his feet gracefully came back to the grass below them, almost bouncing as he walked.  
The way his hands and arms swung back and forth in mocking as he made an impression.  
The way his thin, delicate fingers toyed with the edges of his cloak as he was nervous, or how his voice sped up and his hands waved, punctuating his thoughts with movement as he began to speak about something he was interested in, as he began to ramble slightly, then launching into a passionate speech about how absolutely insane the prose of Edda was, and that the propechy was complete donkey excrement. And Loki didn't dare stop him, as he was so enraptured in watching the pure passion that he poured into every word.

But as time passed, he often found Froðe stealing looks and gazing at him as well, for no particular reason.  
He could only guess as to why, but no, he thought, it was only in his head. Why would he? It made no sense. Perhaps there was something on his face, or a leaf in his hair? He always asked if something was wrong, but Froðe always responded with, "no, not at all!"

But he swore he saw Froðe's cheeks reddening every time he did, or when he watched Loki, he looked with interest and intent, smiling as if he couldn't stop himself from smiling. And he found himself dreaming of the reasons he might be gazing at him in such a way. He felt guilty for even thinking of it at first, but in time, he let his mind wander in a way that he probably shouldn't.

Loki couldn't help himself. He found himself daydreaming of Froðe, thinking of his smile, his voice...  
His hands, so articulate, his feet, so light, so graceful, his gait, so carefree... His arms, gentle enough to lay in... His hands, soft enough to hold...  
His soft, red lips that he imagined would taste sweet, the warmth of a gentle kiss...  
But no, that was wrong. Boys were not to love each other. It was wrong, and they both knew it. And he knew Froðe did not feel the same. He couldn't. But alas... Loki found himself desperately, horribly, terribly in love. And Loki, being the paranoid, love stricken fool that he was, had no idea if Froðe felt the same way. And a part of him really didn't want him to. Though he loved Froðe so, and that thoughts of him brought him great happiness, the idea of this lighthearted crush still brought his mind back to the memory of darker times, in which love was not so warm and kind.

But unbeknownst to Loki, Froðe was kept up at night thinking these same, sinful thoughts, and finding delight in thinking of them all the same. He was visited with thoughts of Loki, his soft voice, his gentle kiss, his warm embrace... And they both smiled at the thought. But Froðe couldn't bear it any longer. He knew Loki. He knew he'd understand. Loki was respectful and kind. Even if he didn't share the feelings that Froðe had for him, he wouldn't tease him about it. He wouldn't tell anyone. They had known each other for over a month. And Froðe felt safe enough with Loki to tell him.

 

A warm, early summer's day. The sun had descended in the sky until it had found twilight, right in between the day and the sunset, not quite but beginning to turn the sky golden. A nice, gentle breeze was blowing across their cheeks, blowing gently through their hair, as Froðe had something so deep, yet so dangerous on his mind.

"I love you, Loki." There it was. Froðe had said it. But Loki's mind couldn't believe it. They stood in the forest, on a walking path. No one was around, and finally, the sun was setting, the rays of orange and rose colored light casting blue shadows across the landscape. And Loki couldn't comprehend what Froðe had just told him. It was almost too impossible.  
"What?"  
He said, almost completely breathless. Froðe's voice became shaky, as he tried to force his words out, his nervousness plaguing his features, his hands shaking like leaves.  
But he closed his eyes, feeling his confidence grow.

"I love you, alright?! I'm done beating myself up about it! I don't care if it's wrong! I love you, Loki! I love the way you speak and the way you act and the way you laugh... And the way you smile at me..."

He smiled, his eyes still closed, just thinking about Loki. About his features, his mannerisms, the color of his aura. About the way he would respond, about the way he would hug Froðe. About the steady warmth and comfort of an embrace that meant so much more after the words had already been said...

"I just, love- you! And I will no longer hold my tongue! I am no longer afraid to say it! Loki, I-

"Stop!"  
Loki ordered, quite loudly, yet not quite yelling.  
Froðe opened his eyes.  
Loki was standing there, his hands shaking. There were tears spilling down his face.  
But he wasn't happy. He was angry.

"You'd even dare."

"...what?"

Froðe asked, confused, fear suddenly filling his chest cavity, his face draining white.  
Loki didn't look angry. He wasn't playing or practicing his silver tongue, nor was he seething with rage.  
There was something in his eyes.  
Pain, and familiarity.

"You would even dare and try to do this to me. After all the pain that they've, that *you've* caused."

"Loki, I-"

"Save it. I know your intentions well.."

Froðe's breath caught in his throat. He was so scared. 'What's wrong? Did I do something wrong? Is he going to tell? Oh gods, no-'  
But those words struck Loki's heart like a blow to the stomach. Happiness and inquisition turned to fear. And anger. And memory of fateful summer's late afternoon, in which he realized he had been played the fool. Lied to.  
His green eyes were glassed over with tears, salted water rolling down his cheeks, as he tried to stop himself from shaking, trying to regain his composure. But he failed, his breath becoming even more staggered, as he felt more liquid flow into his eyes.

"I know what you're doing. You're trying to get into Thor's little friend group aren't you? You just want to go with your big brother, Egil, skipping all the way to happiness after having a little laugh at your new court jester. You're trying to prove to them you have strength. So you thought to get me to love you. So maybe even KISS you, just so you could prove you could get an emotion out of even the most stone cold heartless monster."

"...Loki?"

"Well congratulations. You got me to LIKE you. You got me to LOVE you. And I was mistaken to let you in. Yes, of course. Haha, look at the funny fool, dancing about, aren't his tears JUST SO FUNNY."

Loki spat, remembering the jeering laughter of a younger, crueler man that teased him for liking him. For the elaborate scheme of catching him in the act, of the attempt of a kiss with another male.

But Froðe was frantic. Loki was hurt. But why? Why? What had Froðe done?  
Tears started to fall down Froðe's face. Softly and silently. He had nightmares about this. This situation. He's never liked girls. He's only ever liked boys his whole life. He thought he was broken. He thought there was something wrong with him.  
When he would fall in love, gathering up his courage to say he loved them, they would spit it right back in his face. Laughing and telling everyone, word spreading like wildfire, until everyone in Alfheim knew about how he wasn't right in the head. And you have never experienced true fear until you've had your nightmares come true right before your eyes.  
He spoke, his voice shaking, barely audible against the subtle, quiet wind.

"What?"

"You've done it before. All of you. Fandral, Volstagg the whole lot of you. Not even a year ago had I confessed my attraction to Fandral. And it wasn't even a second that lasted that he didn't begin to tease me about it. *ALL OF YOU DID*. You thought it was funny, that my tears were **humorous**. But no. You are cruel. *All of you are cruel*."

Loki's small sobs began to break apart his words. He was shaking. His hands were balled into fists. His jaw was clenched.  
Every word from Loki stabbed Froðe's heart like a dagger, no, a thin, long needle, piercing and cold.  
He didn't understand. What had happened? What WAS happening?!

"Loki, I-"

"There is no one like me. No one. I learned that the hard way. It's just me, and that's how it's always been, and that's how it's going to stay."

"I-"

"Leave me."

"Loki-"

"I SAID LEAVE!!!"

He screamed, stepping forward, salted water flowing down his cheeks constantly. Feelings of betrayal. Of hate, and the crushed hopes, that maybe someone could have loved him. Because, tragically, after he had been exposed as loving anyone other than a woman, and after he had turned his affection to Fandral, watching the sweetness and affection he showed to the women on his arm, hoping that one day he could receive such affection, the response from Fandral had been more than cruel. He and Volstagg and some of the other warriors made a joke out of his tears. Loki learned that there *was* no one like him. He liked boys, but that was wrong. He was broken, disturbed. And he was stupid enough not to get it until they told him in between bouts of laughter. Now, he knew, that anyone that could even attempt to confess to have feelings for him, must have been a lie. But he was tragically mistaken.  
As Froðe's heart was only filled with feelings of love and trust, only to be met with an unexpected cruelty.

 

Froðe turned and ran, trying to stop his sobs. He ran and didn't stop running, never looking back. His thoughts were bouncing off the walls of his mind, of Loki's cruel words, of his own voice telling himself,  
'no, you *had* to have done something wrong, why else would he have screamed at you?!'  
He could barely see, his vision was blurry and clouded, water filling his eyes. He ran through the forest path, hoping to get back to the palace, sticks and twigs and a briar or two biting at his wrists and ankles, tearing bits of his tunic as he ran.

 

A few of those walking by could hear Froðe crying as he ran through the garden paths, one woman seeing him run past her, yelling,  
"Prince Froðe, is everything alright?!"  
She grabbed his shoulder to halt his running, but he shouted back,  
"Please leave me be!" And began running back, his feet carrying him through the palace doors, running through the main room, and just as it happened, past the warriors.

He couldn't stop his crying at this point, even if he tried, his lungs just wouldn't work normally without gasping and tears running from his eyes. And, as the kind prince that he was, every single person in the palace adored him. He was always the kindest and sweetest to everyone, not just the princes and those of high ranking, but to every palace servant and chambermaid as well, so when he was sobbing, rushing by, he was obviously going to be stopped.

He dashed through a set of double doors and back into the palace.  
Thor saw him first, getting a hand on his shoulder before he could run, quickly capturing him,  
"Froðe, wait, what's wrong?"

Froðe tried to politely excuse himself,  
"Nothing, nothing, I'm sorry, I-"

Then he saw his brother Egil, his eyes growing soft as he saw his sweet baby brother, crying his eyes out.

Thor asked,  
"oh Norns, did Loki hurt you? What did he say?"

"Nothing, he-"  
Then Fandral walked in.

"Hey, what's going on in here?"

Froðe's eyes turned cold as he responded,  
"Nothing. Just leave. I don't want you near me."

Froðe's eyes grew sharp as daggers and cold as steel.  
And Fandral grew offended.

"What? Now there's no reason to speak like tha-"

"OF COURSE THERE IS. How could you do that to him? How could you tease Loki for having affection for you? He trusted you, and you betrayed his trust. Do you know how TORTURED he still is about what you've done? You and your friends and your schemes, and your cruelty. You are a horrible, horrible people. Now, I'll take my leave."

Thor inserted,  
"Wait-"

"I'M LEAVING!!!"  
He screamed at Thor, not seeming to see the dark figure in the background, slipping past and dashing to the halls containing the bedchambers of the princes of Asgard.

And Froðe ran to his own bedchambers, in the exact same direction as the person before him.

 

Loki ran to his room, slamming his door behind him, falling forward onto his bed, his heart almost overflowing with thoughts of his love. Froðe, the man he fell head over heels in love with. How could he be so stupid? So, so blind? Of course Froðe didn't love him, Loki was the one who was broken, not him. He was broken beyond repair, and no matter how many times he tried, he just couldn't fix it.  
He felt the tears come, and he tried to stifle them, putting his hands to his eyes, feeling a sob escape his throat.  
"No, no no no, no..." he whispered to himself.  
"I refuse to cry over him... no... no! I-"

Just then, he heard a pair of flighty, frantic footsteps rushing down the hall, and small, delicate cries following them.  
He heard a door slamming shut. And then silence.

"No... no no no, I'm not..."  
But he wanted to. He wanted to see. Was it Froðe crying? It couldn't have been.

He wiped the tears away from his eyes, ceasing his crying enough to stand and go to the door.  
He only sniffles every once and a while to clear the fluids from his airways, his thoughts of anger being forced aside.  
He cleared his throat, and coughed a little, opening the door.

As soon as he did, he could hear quiet cries coming from a few rooms over.

No. It couldn't be. Froðe didn't love him. Froðe didn't care. He couldn't. It was impossible... wasn't it?

 

Loki walked down the hallway, careful not to make a sound, as the sound barrier of the door was broken, he could now hear more clearly, small, desperate cries of someone softly sobbing. He could recognize the voice. It was Froðe. And it physically hurt him to hear it.

He stood just outside of the door, hearing Froðe sob.  
He was crying in anguish in between sobs, sometimes coughing a little in between. And yet, within it all, Loki could swear he heard shaky speech. Was Froðe saying something?

Loki didn't know what to do. He didn't want to leave. But he didn't want to hurt Froðe. And what if he did hurt him again?

He felt a sick, heavy feeling in his stomach, and a constricting tightness in his chest. Froðe. He hurt him because of his own paranoia. He could have just been flattered and accepted it! After all, Loki absolutely adored Froðe. But no, he had to ruin it. Just as he ruined everything else.

He heard his words. He spat at Fandral. He yelled at him... why would he do that unless he really didn't know?  
'Oh gods... what have I done?'

He was about to turn and run back to his room, until he heard the soft words, in between cries,

"Loki... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have told you..."  
"This is my fault... this is all my fault... Loki..."

Until Froðe broke down crying again, his words dissolving into sobs, helplessly blubbering, not able to stop it.

Loki panicked. Had Froðe heard him? Did he know he was there? How could he have known-

Until he realized Froðe must have been speaking to himself. It all came flooding back to him.

He was the one that made Froðe cry. He was the reason Froðe was sobbing. He must have felt so betrayed. He made Froðe feel the exact same way Fandral made him feel. How could he do that to him?  
How could he have been so blind, so weak?  
He had to make it right. He had to apologize. He hurt him. And even if he didn't mean it, he couldn't stand the thought of Froðe sitting there, crying, waiting for him to say something and to never getting an answer.

Loki rested his hand on the door handle, thinking for a moment.  
'I can't do this. He must hate me, he must...'

But Froðe's desperate cries flooded his ears and occupied his mind.

'No. I have to apologize. I have to make things right.'

And before he could change his mind, he turned the handle, slowly pushing open the door.

 

And there he was, curled up in a ball on his bed, on top of the blankets. His legs were pulled up to his chest, his face buried in between his knees, his arms wrapped around himself, rubbing at his sides, in an almost soothing manner, as he slowly rocked himself back and forth.

His eyes were closed, his face and hair wet with tears, his cheeks and eyes turning a puffy shade of red.

He could hear Froðe muttering quietly to himself,  
"It's okay... you're okay... it's okay... you... I..."  
Until he broke down again, crying out,  
"Oh gods, Loki... it's my fault, it's all my fault, I should have never-"

But Loki had enough of it, saying softly,

"It's not your fault."

Froðe froze, completely still. His crying ceased, but did not stop. He didn't move, he was barely breathing. He was afraid to look up.

Loki repeated,  
"It's not your fault Froðe. You did nothing wrong."

Froðe slowly looked up at Loki. His face was red, and wet with tears, his nose was slightly runny. The look in his eyes was one of fear, and intense sadness. But it also held a certain innocence. It brought tears back to Loki's eyes.

He asked softly, as if he were afraid his words would make the silent gentleness shatter, as if it would make Loki angry at him again.

"...Loki?..."

Loki responded, his voice soft,

"Yes, Froðe. It's me."

They didn't speak. Froðe just sat there, and wiped his nose and eyes, trying to rid himself of all evidence of his crying. He looked away from Loki, almost scared to look at him. So he looked to his knees instead.

Loki spoke softly, as if Froðe were a frightened animal, there being very real possibility that he could run away at any moment.

"Froðe, are you okay?"

Froðe glanced at Loki, then back to himself.

"Yes, of course, I'm fine."

He pressed his face to his knees, not wanting Loki to look at him. He was ashamed that Loki caught him crying.

"Froðe, can you look at me?"

Froðe froze for a moment, before turning his eyes up to meet Loki's. But he looked scared while doing so.

"Froðe, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry..."

Loki wanted to say so much more, about how horrible he felt, about how much he loved and adored Froðe, how he wanted to kiss his tears away, and hold his hands, and do everything he could to make him feel better. But he couldn't do that. And he was too afraid to say it anyway.

Froðe just responded, "oh, okay."  
Glancing back to himself, then back to look at Loki.

But he couldn't hold the gaze. He just couldn't. He felt too guilty.

"Froðe, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you, you did nothing wrong-"

"No, no. Loki, it's not your fault. I should never have said anything. I should have just kept my mouth shut and-"

"No, Froðe, not at all! It was not your fault. You could never have known. You shouldn't have to keep quiet about your feelings. You felt safe enough to tell me, and I hurt you when you were vulnerable, I never should have-"

"Loki?"

Loki stopped speaking. Froðe was smiling at him. It was a small smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"Yes Froðe?"

Froðe laughed a little, saying,

"Loki, it's alright. I forgive you."

Loki smiled back at him, saying softly,

"Thank you."

 

There was a moment of silence. No one knew what to say, or what to do. It was calm. But both of them were still nervous and desperate to read the other's thoughts. They didn't know if the other wanted them to comfort them, or if thy should say something, or say nothing, or...  
Froðe buried his face in his knees, letting his breathing even out, closing his eyes, calming himself.

"I'm sorry, I need to leave," Loki said, almost apologetically, fully realizing Froðe might not want him to stay, though he wanted to stay, so desperately. He turned and started toward the door, but Froðe stopped him in his tracks.

"No, Loki, wait."  
Froðe looked upward to see him, meeting his gaze. Loki looked afraid. And he was. He felt so guilty, so afraid Froðe would hate him, after all he had all the right to hate-

"Can you stay?"  
Froðe gave a small, sheepish smile. A half smile, completely sincere, but still in the melancholy sorrow of just having sobbed. His chest still spasming, causing him to gasp softly every few seconds.

"You.. you really want me to stay?"

"Of course I do, Loki."

"After I've hurt you so?"

"Of course, silly!"  
Froðe said, smiling and giggling a little. Then his expression turned sincere, reassuring, and comforting, as he softly said, still smiling,  
"You're my best friend."

Loki's chest went all warm inside. Froðe considered him his best friend. He wanted to call Froðe his as well, but he didn't want to be selfish in case Froðe already had one.  
He smiled, sort of stunned that Froðe would hold him so high in his mind.  
"I assumed you already had a closest friend back on Alfheim."

"Well... no, not really. You're my closest friend. You know me better than my own parents, honestly!"  
Froðe chuckled a little, and Loki kind of joined, as there they stayed, just kind of laughing.  
As the laughter died down, Loki realized he was just standing there, as Froðe was relaxing on the bed, and he felt a bit awkward,  
"Umm..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners? Come, sit."  
Froðe patted the spot on the bed next to him, swinging his legs over the edge, putting himself into a sitting position.  
Loki sat down, nervously, tentatively. Not wanting to fully relax, keeping his posture, his muscles tensed.  
Froðe smiled back at him, straightening up a little, saying,  
"It's ok, Loki. We're not strangers, you know."

Loki chuckled a little, saying,  
"Norns... I just... I shouldn't be the one being reassured, I should be consoling you, I hurt you, I lashed out at you, I'm sorry-"

"It's really ok, Loki. I'm really fine. Sure, I was distraught, but I've had a chance to breathe. I feel a lot better now. You're the one that was reminded of something you shouldn't have had to remember-"

"No, Froðe, it's fine. It's alright."

 

They sat in silence. Froðe wondering how Loki would respond, and Loki knew what Froðe wanted, but he was having trouble finding a way to bring it up. Until he gave up trying to work it in, just saying it outright.

"So... I guess such a confession would pose a question of its own, yes?"

Froðe smiled and laughed a little, responding softly,  
"Yes... it has."

Loki sat silently, tense, as he didn't know what to do or say.  
And Froðe, being the polite little prince that he was, waited anxiously.

"I... Umm... God dammit, how do I say this..."

"It's alright Loki. You don't have to pick and choose your words. You don't have to worry about hurting me, or sugar coating anything, I'll take it all with a grain of salt-"

"I love you."

 

Loki's muscles went completely stiff, his eyes were squeezed shut, he didn't want to look at Froðe as he was afraid of his own words. He was sitting straight as a ramrod, his head down, trying to let his hair cover his face. His fingers were gripping the sheets.

"It's just... I really like you. I just like you... your personality, and the way you move, and the way you say things and... they way you look at me, and-"  
Loki started to shake, his chest, arms and legs shivering from fear and nervousness. He started speaking a little quicker out of anxiety. He took the sheets into his fists, squeezing them.

"I just... I could never tell you, because if you didn't feel the same or, something I don't know, that you would tell the Allfather or Thor or Fandral or your Father, your Mother, someone..."

Loki's jaw and lips were quivering with nervousness. His words were fast as he tried not to stumble over them.  
"And that just can't happen because if word got out then everyone would know that I'm..."

Loki hung his head, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He was gripping onto the fabric so hard that his knuckles were turning white. But he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and a clear, calm voice,

"It's alright. It's ok. You're ok."

Froðe was cooing to him softly, it reminded him of his mother, as he'd run to her in the middle of the night after his night terrors, shaking like a leaf, as she rocked him, speaking softly, as he would press his ear to her chest, her heart beat calming him. He relaxed his muscles fully, letting go of the sheets, resting his hands on the soft fabric.

"I... I just love you... I love you so much. I'm just so scared that I..."

"It's ok. You don't have to be afraid."

Loki fully relaxed his muscles. He just wasn't afraid any more. Froðe wasn't going to tell. He just wouldn't do that. He smiled, opening his eyes, looking to Froðe.

He was stunned when he saw. Froðe was smiling, that kind of smile he got when he was so happy, and he couldn't stop smiling if he tried. Little tears were sliding down his cheeks like little, shimmering pearls.

He smiled, saying,

"Oh, Froðe-"  
Going to embrace him, he wrapped his arms around Froðe, as Froðe did the same, holding him tight, pressing his body against Loki's, resting his head on Loki's shoulder. And he heard a small, sheepish voice,

"You really mean it?"

"Of course I do. I love you."

He could feel Froðe's tears soaking into the shoulder pads of his tunic, and Loki didn't stop him. He just sat, rubbing circles on Froðe's back, as he heard and felt Froðe softly breathing.

"I... I love you too Loki. I love you so much."

They sat in silence, savoring the other's warmth. There they stayed, with their arms around each other, their hands resting at the other's back, neither of them wanting to let go.

Froðe pressed his face into Loki's shoulder and neck, feeling Loki bring his hand up to the area right below his neck, securing him in.

Froðe smiled, chuckling a little, his nose still stuffy from the salt water, as Loki laughed a little too, just letting himself be happy. After confusion, and sadness, and anger. It was all done. He could be happy. Someone loved him, more than just a friend. He felt calm listening to Froðe's breathing. He relaxed his muscles, still sitting up, his legs resting on Froðe's bed, their tunics still a little damp from tears, as well as their hair.

And there they sat, soaking in each other's presence, breathing in their scent, basking in the warmth.

And it was then that Loki decided. He loved Froðe, and there was nothing in the nine realms that could stop him. He held Froðe tight, and it was then that he vowed to himself, that he would NEVER let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so AO3 posted this when I clicked the wrong button so I will be editing it after I post it, so don't judge me if I didn't have to finish editing by the time you read this!
> 
> So, as to an explanation to why I pulled a Pendragon and fell off the face of the Earth, I actually went out of public school and am now doing unschooling, which is a non-curricular form of learning, bla bla bla, I didn't have time to write as I was still figuring shiet out. Either way, I might need to take some time before I finish Drugged and some of the other fics I got goin on, but either way, I am writing and being productive, yay for me, but new stuff should be coming out pretty soon!
> 
> But enough of that, thank you so much, dear reader, for reading this chapter and such, if you liked it, consider leaving a kudos as every time I get a kudos a little bit of my heart gets super happy, and every time I get a comment with any kind of feedback, my scared lizard brain is less frightened to post a part of my soul on the internet, so, anyways, thank you so much for reading, I hoped you enjoyed it :)
> 
> ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
> Update, I found the original writer and fanfic. Link here> https://archiveofourown.org/works/1264258  
> And to Batsutousai, you've inspired me to create this original character, I know, originally yours, but upon the past few years I've created literal hundreds upon hundreds of hours of content in audio files, spin-off works, and love for this adorable bean I feel like I stole from you. Though that isn't the only reason I am gifting it to you, it's that I searched for this fic all by memory alone and found the correct, original name, and found you years later, I just have to say, thank you for creating the original piece that has literally helped create who I am as a writer today. It would mean the world to me if you read this, and if you did, then that's awesome, but lol, Batsi, if you do want to see my other work of this series I won't be releasing for obvious reasons (if you happen to know those reasons, unless I get a lot of requests for it) please just ask and I'll send you the link to look at it!  
> Either way, super long winded, thank you for reading!  
> ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> ABOUT MY HELP REQUEST IN THE BEGINNING NOTES  
> I need massive help from all the readers of this fanfic on this one, you don't gotta do much, just read this if you can/want to! Ok, so Froðe wasn't originally my character, he was actually a character made by another fan fic author, by a fic I found about three years ago, and as said fic was already a couple years old when I read it. It was actually a frostpudding fan fic, and Froðe was actually Loki's lover long ago in his youth, and when Loki was punished for doing something horrible, which was not mentioned, his lover, Froðe, steps in to take the punishment instead of Loki. His punishment was to reincarnate as a Midgardian every time he dies, and was cursed to walk the earth with no memory of his past life with Loki. The only way he can remember is if Loki finds him and helps him remember, dying again and again as Loki runs himself ragged hunting him down and trying to find him every time he dies again. The premise was actually that Froðe reincarnated into Tom Hiddleston, and Loki found him again. This fic was so old, and on a different, obscure site that almost never saw the light of day. I looked all over for this fic, as I have based my character I have been working on for the past two years.  
> If you know what this fic is and where I can find it, I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER. Thank you for reading this, you are the bestest reader ever!
> 
> This work was originally written on Werdsmith  
> http://www.werdsmith.com/
> 
> Also Werdsmith doesn't make me post that, I actually make a conscious effort to put the link there myself on every fanfiction I write because it is literally the best writing app ever, it is so useful, and without it I probably wouldn't be where I am today, at least in the writing world! If you're a writer or not, I'd suggest you check it out, I'm not sponsored by Werdsmith, I'm just someone who's really happy with what Werdsmith has helped me accomplish. Check it out, it's free for a few projects, and the unlimited project unlock of 2 bucks is worth the money a million times over.


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